


Buzzcut Season

by franticatlantic



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, Homophobic Language, M/M, transphobic language, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franticatlantic/pseuds/franticatlantic
Summary: The girl at the bar isn't really a girl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is for alex, who wanted crossdressing ty and smut. ~
> 
> title is from the lorde song of the same name.

The girl at the bar isn’t really a girl.

Josh can tell by the sharp slope of her shoulder blades, the flatness of her chest, the way her hair (a short green wig) doesn’t quite meet the line of her real hair, which Josh thinks must be dark. But mostly he can tell by the patch of stubble she missed shaving on the slant of her jaw. That bristly patch of hair catches the light along with her earrings every time she so much as shifts.

She’s still beautiful.

He tells her this as he sits beside her at the bar and watches her blush, high on the apples of her cheeks, while her short black skirt rides up even further over her fishnet stockings.

They’re in some sort of biker bar and - real girl or no - Josh is surprised she hasn’t been picked up already. She’s exactly the sort of chick you’d find around here on a Friday night, smoking half a pack and playing pool with a beer in her hand. She has tattoos at least, plenty of them on both arms. Josh hopes she has more somewhere he can’t see.

“Buy you a beer?” He asks, and if he had a penny for every time she must have heard that tonight he’d be richer than rich. He kind of expects her to shoot him down, to be completely honest.

So when she just laughs, bracelets jangling, and says, “I’m not much of a beer drinker,” Josh almost falls off his stool.

He nods, slowly, not wanting to scare her away. “A classy gal. I can dig that.” He motions for the bartender and glances at the woman. “Can we get two…Cosmopolitans?”

“Rum and coke,” the woman amends, and as the tender gets to work she giggles, green wig brushing her shoulder. “I said I didn’t like beer, not that I was a pussy.”

The way her lips form the word is awkward, like she’s not used to saying it.

“Fair enough.” Not wanting to be sleazy, but wanting to make sure she knows he’s interested in more than buying her a drink, he puts the tip of his pinky between his teeth and bites the nail, gaze roving over her. “You come here often?”

It’s lame, but she plays into it, watching his finger. “Every weekend.”

Josh is getting way too excited to know whether that’s a joke or sarcasm or somewhere in between. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

She tosses her wig and blinks her round, dusky eyes. The makeup is done pretty well, all things considered, Josh thinks. “Maybe you just haven’t been looking very closely.”

The bartender slides their drinks down the bar and Josh sips. The woman, throat working exquisitely, downs half of hers in one gulp.

“I’m Josh.”

“Tyra.”

“When we finish our drinks, I’d like to take you back to my place.” He says this so loud that some guys behind them look over with puzzled looks and drawn faces. But this is Josh’s MO every time he picks up - no lowering of the voice, a hand curved possessively around the back of her knee, looking nowhere but at her.

“You’re pretty forward.” There’s that blush again.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Isn’t it just.” A batting of her eyelashes, slight lick of her lips with a watermelon tongue, and she’s downing the rest of her rum. “Meet me out back when you’re ready.”

She wobbles a bit in her heels, though not dramatically. Any normal woman would have had to catch their balance when standing in heels that high Josh supposes.

Her ass sways hypnotically as she leaves and Josh has never drank a rum and coke so fast in his life.

-

She blows him on the way home, sloppy but with enough finesse that Josh isn’t sure whether she’s done this before or not. He doesn’t care.

Instead of putting himself in danger of pulling her wig off, he curls his fingers around her shoulder and keeps the other tight on the steering wheel.

She’s sucking hard enough to have his hips bucking up to meet her and when they’re about a mile from his house, he squeezes her shoulder. “If you don’t stop-“

With a hum, she takes him deeper, lips rolled over her teeth and her tongue rubbing at the underside of his head. He almost swerves into a tree right there. But instead of doing that he reaches under her and grasps her chin lightly, pulling her off. He keeps his fingers there and kisses her, trying to keep one eye on the road. It’s hard with the way she tastes like him, breathing heavy into his mouth. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

She nods and sinks back in her seat, fixing her top and crossing her legs. “Of course.”

Josh carries her into the house, toeing the door shut and getting only so far as the couch before he has to throw her down and get on top of her. He kisses her deeply, brushes his fingers against the stubble on her jaw. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, gasping beneath him and throwing her head back. Her wig tilts a little.

With a growl and a flick of his wrist, Josh dips to put his lips at her neck and his fingers under her shirt.

“Wait.”

He stops, grinding against her leg and looking up at her. “Are you okay?”

She’s squirming so Josh lets her sit up, trying to make himself as least menacing as possible. Which is hard with the way he’s sitting on her legs.

“Can we, um, do this in your bed?” She reaches back to the crown of her head, pretending to scratch her scalp, but Josh sees her adjust the wig instead.

“Of course.” He hops off and stretches a hand out to her, which she takes.

He leads her through the house and upstairs, to his modest bedroom, where he flicks the light on.

“Thank you,” she says, but Josh thinks there’s something else. So instead of throwing her down like a barbarian - like last time - he sits on the edge of the bed and waits for her.

She wanders the room, inspecting things. Josh’s drum kit, his show makeup on the dresser, an empty bag of Hot Fries.

“I’m not a girl.”

Is that all?

“I know that.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I thought you may have been trans.”

Tyra flushes from the top of her chest, which Josh now sees has been lightly contoured to give the impression of breasts, to her forehead. “I just…like the clothes.”

To put an end to her wandering, she stops in front of Josh and touches his knee, tentatively.

Josh - equally as tentative - puts a hand on the back of her thigh and squeezes. “What’s your name?”

“Tyler.”

Tyler gives Josh a look. _Is that okay?_

“Tyler,” Josh says, and stands. He cups Tyler’s jaw and runs just the tips of his fingers through the strands of the wig. “Can you take this off?”

Tyler doesn’t answer, just hooks his fingers in the front of the wig and slides it easily from his head, tosses it on the dresser. His hair is short and dark, like Josh guessed, and Josh cards his fingers into it, fluffing it up where it got smashed down by the wig.

“Do you still want me?”

Josh has hardly wanted anything more in his entire life.

“C’mere.” He kneels back onto the bed and Tyler joins him, trembling where Josh touches his elbow. “It’s okay. You can initiate if you want. I can be passive.”

Tyler shakes his head, pouts his smeared, glossy lips. “I don’t want you to be.”

Josh hooks an arm around Tyler’s waist and guides him gently down to the sheets, kissing his bobbing throat, the side of his neck, the stubble on his jaw. Maybe he’ll point it out later, maybe he won’t. He doesn’t want Tyler to be embarrassed.

Sly fingers make their way back under Tyler’s shirt, feeling around a soft, quivering stomach. “Take this off next.”

As Tyler does, Josh leans up to take his own off, feeling Tyler’s hands on his chest, gliding around to the very center of his back. He does have more tattoos, over both pecks. “You’re so hot.”

“So are you,” Josh says, and dips the tips of his fingers in his mouth. Using his spit, he smears the contour of Tyler’s fake breasts and licks at his nipple. Tyler shivers.

Fingering the scratchy material of Tyler’s fishnets, Josh kisses his temple. “Can I rip these?”

“Please.”

So Josh does, hooking his fingers between two of the pieces of mesh and pulling. There’s a pop as the hole widens and Josh has just enough room to worm his hand inside and push up, toward Tyler’s groin. His fingers touch some kind of fabric and Tyler rocks up the bed, away from him. He looks scared so Josh settles him with another kiss - soft, on his nose - and palms him through the underwear.

They’re soft, and Josh really wants to know what they look like.

So he reaches up to pull both the stockings and the underwear off. Tyler helps, lifting his hips and shimmying to allow everything to come loose. From the fishnets, Josh extracts a pair of pink and purple panties, trimmed with faint lacy yellow.

“Fuck,” Josh gasps articulately, and Tyler giggles.

“I’d like to keep the skirt on,” he says, smoothing his fingers over it.

“Works for me.” Josh nods, discards the panties, and dives under Tyler’s skirt, spreading his legs as far as he can in the tight, inflexible fabric. He laps at Tyler’s hole and gets a whimper for his efforts before he starts fucking his tongue in an out, sucking on the rim and only using his teeth when Tyler starts to fall silent.

“What’d you say your name was again?” Tyler asks.

Josh pops back up to see Tyler stifling laughter and playing with his nipples.

“Kidding,” he sighs, and rucks his skirt up a little further. “You don’t have to stretch me. I already did that.”

“When?” Josh feels lightheaded.

“Back at the bar, when you were finishing up your drink.” Tyler spits in his hand and wraps it around Josh’s dick, starts to tug.

As if pulled by some imaginary string, Josh’s chin falls to his chest so he can watch how the rocking of his hips pushes his leaking cock through the tight ring of Tyler’s painted fingernails.

“Fuck me,” Tyler says, and Josh doesn’t have to be told twice.

He insinuates himself between Tyler’s thighs, pushing the skirt up further so that it becomes just a solid black ring around Tyler’s waist. It’s this he holds onto while he pushes in against the resistance and starts to fuck Tyler as hard as he seems to want it.

Tyler locks his ankles at the small of Josh’s back and arches so hard Josh is sure he must do yoga. When he comes back down, Josh feels the shift inside, the brush of his head against Tyler’s prostate.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tyler laments, digging his fingers into Josh’s back. “Right there.”

Josh tries his best to acquiesce to Tyler’s demand and he must not do half a bad job because ten minutes later Tyler is striping his stomach and some of the skirt with cum, untouched save for a little pull he gives to the underside of his cock. He whines as he orgasms, high and dense, and swallows convulsively.

Josh is close, but. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t care,” is Tyler’s immediate response.

Josh knows he’s clean and whether or not Tyler is doesn’t matter at this point, so he shoves in and cums, dick squelching through the mess as he collapses on Tyler, semen sticky between them.

For a moment they just lie there, Tyler’s hands drawing gentle patterns on Josh’s back and Josh’s breath blowing steamy and damp over Tyler’s shoulder.

Groaning, Josh rolls off and next to Tyler instead, tilts his head to take him in. Makeup smudgy, lips ample and pink, legs splayed wide.

“How were you still there?” He asks unbelievingly.

“Hm?” Tyler rolls his head and meets Josh’s gaze with his dark eyes.

“At the bar. You were so fucking pretty sitting there - it’s a wonder no one else had taken you home.”

“I think it’s the wig, honestly. They like their girls alternative, but not _that_ alternative.”

“Lucky for us you’re just my type.” When he rolls, Tyler meets him, and they get tangled in each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler clenches around him so lovingly, his smudgy lips at Josh’s ear. “Gonna protect me forever, Joshie? Always gonna take care of me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for alex, who wanted a part two. i hope you like it!

There’s a loud whine of feedback from the surrounding speakers and the sound tech onstage winces, plugging whatever he’s been fiddling with back in.

It makes Josh flinch and a couple people around them mutter, but Tyler actively jumps and claps his hands over his ears, fingers pressing into the strands of his wig. It’s a new one, long and wavy and pastel purple, hanging just past the spaghetti straps of Tyler’s tank top. Below that, tight black skinny jeans make Tyler’s legs stretch for days, ending at an old pair of Vans.

Tyler has been looking forward to seeing this band for months and after waiting five hours in the blistering heat they managed to get barricade when everyone started streaming into the pit like ants to a giant anthill. Josh presses Tyler into the barricade now, arms bracketing him protectively as he feels himself against the swell of Tyler’s ass, further accentuated by his tight pants. He grips the railing on either side of Tyler and brushes his lips over the curve of Tyler’s ear as Tyler takes his hands away, bracelets jingling.

“You excited?” Josh asks.

“Mhm.” Tyler turns to look at Josh, hand coming back to cup Josh’s jaw, and Josh sees he’s blushing. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Josh isn’t much one for public displays of affection, at least overtly. But Tyler looks so pretty with his new wig, his dusky eye makeup, the matte lipstick he’s wearing, that Josh can’t help but kiss him. Long and slow with his hands white knuckling the barricade and his mouth smearing Tyler’s lipstick when they part.

It’s as he’s grinning and wiping the smear away from the corner of Tyler’s upturned lips that he hears it. “Fuckin’ fags.”

Tyler’s lips turn down, and Josh turns. The three girls standing close behind him look awkward, but otherwise give no indication that they know where the insult was hurled from. Josh watches the crowd a while longer and then turns back, still feeling uneasy. He rests his chin on Tyler’s shoulder and the wig tickles his cheek as he starts to sway softly, trying to comfort Tyler, who’s shaking like a leaf.

The band’s scheduled to come on in a little over ten minutes and then they won’t be able to hear much of anything but the music. He hums, as much to keep himself sane as to console a visibly upset Tyler.

Amidst the low hum of the crowd growing antsy around them Josh catches a snippet of a conversation, just one word - “tranny.” He knows Tyler hears it too because instead of shaking he’s gone completely still, eyes fixed forward, unseeing, on the stage.

Josh turns again and this time he sees the guy sneering at him from two rows back and to his left, ugly with small beady eyes staring out from an oversized head. Josh doesn’t know who he was talking to or even if he was talking to someone else, maybe he was talking just to talk, just to make sure Josh overheard and started something.

When Josh says, loudly, “Excuse me?” the crowd immediately starts to part around them, as if they can sense a fight coming. The three girls from before look even more nervous, shielding each other away from Josh and the guy, who now have a straight shot toward each other if they so wish.

The guy says, “You heard me,” with a nasty little smile and takes two steps forward.

Tyler turns then and takes Josh’s elbow in both hands. “Josh, don’t. Please. He’s not worth it.” And then, lower, meant only for Josh, “I get this shit all the time. Let it go?”

Josh shakes his head very slowly and leans in toward Tyler. He whispers, “no,” and then strides purposefully toward the guy.

Because while Tyler may be used to this kind of stuff, Josh isn’t. And he isn’t going to let Tyler become used to it either.

The guy is wearing a Metallica T-shirt, someone Josh might have gotten along with under different circumstances. “You call that a girl?” The laugh he gives is loud and guffawing, clutching a gut that spills out over the waistband of his faded jeans.

“I call that my boyfriend,” Josh says, and takes a swing.

It connects, though not where he was aiming for. He hits the guy in the ear and the crowd around them gasps, separating even further. The guy is so big he barely stumbles, just sort of flinches back with a blink and then growls and launches himself at Josh, who takes the guy’s fist to his cheek and stumbles back against the barricade.

Tyler is there. He says Josh’s name once, rests a hand on his shoulder. And the guy is advancing, Josh ready to get back up until someone grabs him by the back of the shirt and starts to pull, hard.

“Alright, all three of you. Let’s go.”

It’s security pulling at Josh and motioning for the guy to follow suit.

“What?” Josh wrenches himself out of the man’s grip. “But I didn’t-“

“No fighting allowed,” the man says, and already Tyler is scrambling over the barricade.

“Dude, come on. That guy was saying shit. My boyfriend’s been waiting months to see this show.”

“ _Dude,_ ” the man mocks, and grabs hold of the front of Josh’s shirt this time, “I don’t care.”

So that’s how Josh finds himself back at home, staring at the clock with his face smarting something awful. If they were still at the venue the band Tyler wanted so desperately to see would be onstage right now, in the middle of their set.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and lets his chin dip toward his chest.

“It hurt that bad?” Tyler asks, stepping into view and tipping Josh’s chin back up. He has an icepack in hand, wrapped in a paper towel, which he presses gingerly to Josh’s cheek.

Josh shakes his head, sighs at the chilly fingers stretching across his face, soothing the ache. “Just thinking about how much you were looking forward to seeing them.”

Tyler makes a small, noncommittal noise. “They’ll be back. We can always see them next tour.”

The couch is so comforting after the long heat of the day, his head ringing with the force of the punch, that he feels like it could swallow him whole. But then Tyler is climbing up, kneeling with his legs on either side of Josh’s. “It was so hot, seeing you stick up for me like that.”

Slowly, Tyler takes the icepack and sets it beside them. The ache in Josh’s face begins again, but he can ignore it for the way Tyler’s jeans are so tight on him, slender thighs making their way up to the A frame of his crotch, a bump in the fabric that makes Josh’s mouth water. He runs his hands up the backs of Tyler’s thighs and cups his ass through the jeans. “What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t protect you?”

Tyler says nothing, just braces his hands on Josh’s shoulders and lets Josh touch him.

“You’re really not upset?”

“Babe.” Tyler’s gentle fingers find their way to Josh’s cheek, stroking over the bruise there. “Seeing you like that…how could I be upset? No one’s ever done that for me before.”

Josh squeezes Tyler’s ass and Tyler rocks down, brushing them together. “Guh. Ty…your ass has looked amazing all day in these things. Why don’t you take ‘em off for me?”

Scrambling to comply, Tyler slips from the couch and all but rips his pants off. As he does, Josh unzips his own jeans and lets his cock, slowly hardening, pop out between the shining gold teeth.

“We may have missed the show,” Tyler purrs, taking his place back on Josh’s lap with his cock reaching up toward his stomach, “but I can give you a better one.”

Josh steadies himself with his hands on Tyler’s waist, just under the hem of his tank top. Tyler sticks two fingers in his mouth, keeping his eyes on Josh’s, and moans around them. Josh’s fingers tighten on his hips and he squirms, pops his fingers out with a slick little noise and reaches back. He braces himself with one hand on Josh’s shoulder, shoving his hips down onto the fingers of his other hand.

He fucks himself for Josh, the ends of his pretty wig swaying close to Josh’s face, the head of his cock catching and smearing precum on the fibers of his shirt. He moans high and loud, tosses his head back and moves stiffly, bones held rigid as he hits his prostate and tries not to come. But Josh won’t let him, circles his fingers around the very base of Tyler’s dick and squeezes, earning him a twitch in the process, a stream of precum down over his hand.

“Tyler.” Tyler stops moving and looks at Josh, mouth open as he breathes heavily. “Kiss me, baby.”

Tyler does, bucking forward to seal his mouth - tacky with lipstick - over Josh’s, his wet fingers coming around to join them, brushing his spit and the gloss of his ass onto Josh’s jaw. But Josh doesn’t mind because as he bites down on Tyler’s lower lip, scraping some of the lipstick off with his teeth, Tyler is scooting forward, taking Josh in hand, and dropping down onto him.

With the bitter plasticky taste of Tyler’s lipstick in his mouth, Josh throws his head back against the sofa and grabs hard at Tyler’s hips, urging him down. At the very center of his brain a sweetly sickening high C starts to hum. Tyler clenches around him so lovingly, his smudgy lips at Josh’s ear. “Gonna protect me forever, Joshie? Always gonna take care of me?”

Josh can only nod, making a little affirmative sound as he feels himself swell inside of Tyler. With only Tyler’s spit slicking the way the drag of his cock against Tyler’s insides makes him groan, his ass working to drive himself up over and over again.

Tyler doesn’t so much ride him as he does rock his hips continuously back and forth, milking Josh’s cum out of him almost lazily, sharing shiftless kisses in the glow of the lone lamp in the corner.

When Tyler comes he does so with his mouth hanging slack for Josh to fuck his tongue into, running it over the ridges of Tyler’s teeth, flicking it over Tyler’s messy lips, the dark matte color of his lipstick everywhere now. Tyler comes with two fingers circled around the head of his cock, stroking in small periodic movements, his cum pouring out in fat rivulets as he makes the softest noises for Josh.

Josh follows with a groan, Tyler’s ass narrowing around him and wresting his orgasm from him in spurts of cum that start to leak out before Josh has even finished. He wraps both arms around Tyler’s middle and pistons his hips hard six more times, until Tyler is making little “ah ah ah” noises with his eyes screwed shut, like it’s too much.

Only then does he stop, holding Tyler close and pressing soft kisses into his wig. It tickles Josh wherever it lands, but he loves seeing it on, loves the way Tyler tosses it over his shoulder as he leans in for one more slow, dulcet kiss.

“Good choice,” Josh sighs, breath still choppy as he scratches the pastel strands of Tyler’s wig.

Tyler giggles and winds his jingling arms around Josh’s shoulders. Josh feels his legs quake once around him and then go still. “I’m glad you like it. I have tons more to show you.”

**Author's Note:**

> always taking requests at my [tumblr](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/).


End file.
